


Missed Calls

by hsophiec



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Secrets, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out About Derek/Stiles Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hsophiec/pseuds/hsophiec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sheriff is let in on a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missed Calls

“Bye, Dad!” Stiles yelled, pelting down the stairs and yanking his coat and scarf from the rack by the door, “I’ll be back… Uhh, some time this evening I guess; don’t wait up for me!” Hopping on one foot, he attempted to pull a snow boot on the other. Teetering slightly under his own momentum, Stiles managed to pull on the boot seconds before falling backwards into the wall. He scrambled to his feet just as the Sheriff poked his head through the kitchen door.

“And what time do you think that’ll be?” he asked, holding his cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the other comfortably in his pocket. John leant against the doorframe, his eyebrows raised slightly as he took a sip from the mug.

“Oh, man, I dunno, late I guess,” Stiles said, now searching in the downstairs cupboard for a matching hat and gloves set, “Scott wants to get started on our new Chem project, which he says he’s been thinking about all day.” He paused to examine a couple of gloves, “Are these blue or black? I can’t tell,” he said, waving them vaguely in John’s direction.

“Black,” his Dad replied, continuing to stare stonily in his son’s direction, “And what’s this new project on, might I ask. If Scott’s been thinking about it all day, he should have a pretty good idea by now.” John innocently took another sip of coffee. Stiles had stopped rooting through boxes and was now looking at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Molecular chemistry,” he said.

“What about it?”

“Hydrogen.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, more forcefully than he intended.

“That’s very precise.” “Well, yeah, we’ve broken off into pairs and been told to research the molecular properties of one element on the periodic table.”

“Sounds more like Physics to me,” John said, continuing to look innocently serene, “Well, as long as you’re sure. It sounds like there’s very little room for hijinks in this scenario.” Stiles frowned and spluttered in objection, but John continued, “So I’m not going to expect any calls to the station at ungodly hours, is that right? Nothing about werewolves or Darachs, or whatever the most pressing supernatural problem is in Beacon Hills right now.”

Stiles interrupted, “Well, actually right now it’s-”

“I don’t want to know,” John said seriously, “Just as long as you’re not involved this time, that’s good enough for me. You got that? No more supernatural stuff. At all.”

Stiles groaned, “Fine. Can I go now?” He had finished collecting the various items of snow gear and was standing impatiently with his mittened hand on the door.

“Sure, just, you know, heed my warning,” John said as Stiles whipped the door open. John started forward towards the door, yelling at his son’s fleeing back, “I might not let you back in the house if you don’t!”

John sighed and shook his head as he headed back inside the house. Stiles would be back later, much later if he thought he could get away with it. John was used to hearing the back door opening in the early hours of the morning now, listening to Stiles as he stumbled around downstairs in the dark, trying to be silent and stealthy.

Heading into the kitchen to top up his now lukewarm coffee, John fished in his Sheriff’s jacket for his phone. Being buried deep in a pocket must have deadened its usually deafening ring, because John had not heard when it had gone off. The light on the top flashed, indicating he had a voicemail. Without checking the call logs, he dialled voicemail, expecting the message to be from one of his colleagues at the station - something new and exciting had happened that required his urgent attention. No doubt Mrs. Morris’ old cat was stuck in a tree again.

“Hey, Stiles,” said the deep voice, “It’s Derek. I’m going to be a bit late meeting up this afternoon, my shift at the store overran. Listen, just get started without me, ok? I know it’s normally my job to, you know, warm you up on these cold winter nights,” John could hear Derek chuckling at his own joke, “but for today I want you to be ready and waiting for me when I arrive, ok? Anyway, I shouldn’t be more than about ten minutes late, so you’d better be undressed by the time I arrive. Right, see you in a bit.”

\-----

Derek frowned as he headed up the street, seeing Stiles waiting on the steps outside his building, hands buried under in his armpits for warmth. Stiles waved as Derek approached, his deeper-than-usual frown going unnoticed.

“Thank god you made it, I thought you’d died or something in the snow on your way over,” Stiles said, shivering as Derek made his way up the steps, “Which would have been particularly embarrassing for you considering the snow’s only about three inches deep.” Stiles smiled even brighter, trying to force his own happiness onto Derek’s face, with little success.

“What happened? I called you and left a message saying I’d be late,” Derek said, then leaned in towards Stiles and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “You were supposed to go in and get ready for me, you know where the key is.”

Derek stared hungrily at Stiles, who returned the expression with equal vigour, his cheeks colouring slightly despite the temperature. It took Stiles a minute to resurface from his imagination and Derek’s gaze.

He stumbled over his response, getting distracted by Derek’s lips halfway through, “No, you didn’t,” he coughed, “I mean, I haven’t had any missed calls and I ran all the way here with my phone in my hand. I’d have noticed if you called.”

Derek frowned again, more disappointed and confused this time, “But I definitely called you,” he said.

“I swear, man, you didn’t,” Stiles held up his mittens in surrender, “If you had, I wouldn’t be stood out here in this freezer waiting for you, would I?” Derek raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Look, check your call logs. I bet you just called Dominos or something by mistake.”

Derek sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah, you’re probably right, I wasn’t really focusing on what I was doing when I came out of the store,” he started navigating through the menus to the call logs, “Well, whoever it was, they’re going to have a nasty surprise when they check their messages.”

Stiles chuckled, “I bet you left the best message as well, I’m bummed I’m never going to hear it now. What? Who did you call?”

Derek had frozen, staring wide-eyed at his phone screen. “Stiles, don’t panic,” he said, his voice calm but cold.

Stiles’ smile dropped from his face, “Who was it?”

Derek turned slowly to look at him. “The Sheriff,” he said.

Stiles paled, choking on his words, “ _The_ Sheriff? Of Beacon Hills? _My_ Sheriff?”

Derek nodded.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles said, “How the _hell_ did that happen?”

Derek muttered, “I organise my contacts by surname, so you and your Dad are right next to each other: ‘Stilinski, John’ followed by ‘Stilinski, Stiles’. It makes sense!” he said defensively, “It’s a good system!”

“Well clearly there are some flaws in it!” Stiles yelled back, “Like you accidentally leaving sexy voicemails on my Dad’s phone! I’m pretty sure that any system allowing for that as even a remote possibility needs to be revised!”

Stiles put his hand to his forehead, running it over his head and pulling off his hat. Shoving it into his pocket, he reached up and kneaded his eyes. “It’s ok, this is going to be ok,” he said slowly, “Let’s face it, he was going to find out about us at some point. In many ways, you’ve already done the hard work,” Stiles teased, glancing up to look at Derek.

Standing in the door to his building, hand on the knob, Derek was gazing through the glass of the door into the foyer beyond, “I really am sorry, Stiles,” he said, “I didn’t want to make this difficult for you.” He looked down at his feet before opening the door and stepping into the foyer. Turning back to look at Stiles, Derek said, “I can understand if you want to call this off now.”

“What are you talking about? You’re coming with me to talk to him,” Stiles replied, “Just because he’s found out about us doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. He’ll be fine with it, just a bit shocked I should think. I bet he’s just sitting with a beer in the kitchen at the moment, thinking this all over.” (John took a swig of beer as Stiles spoke.)

He moved forward after Derek, pushing him into the building and towards the elevators, “Listen, just because our secret trysts have been ruined, doesn’t mean our relationship has been. I’m not ashamed of you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“It’s not that, I just wasn’t sure if you’d come out to him yet,” Derek said, spurred on by Stiles reassurances, “I don’t want to out you if you’re not ready, and I figured that if he wasn’t ok with us then I’d rather leave you with your father than pressure you into staying with me.”

“Oh, please,” Stiles scoffed, “If Dad hasn’t figured out where I’m sneaking off to by now and with whom, then his role as Sheriff in this town isn’t as secure as it once was. He may be getting old, but he’s still sharp. He knows.”

Stiles smiled as Derek began frowning again, “Don't tell him I said that though. Come on, let’s just go upstairs and have some fun. We can talk to Dad when you give me a lift home later, seeing as it’s getting way too cold to walk. And hey, now we can meet up at my house instead! Well, maybe not straight away,” Stiles said, frowning himself this time, “Maybe we should give it a few weeks before that.”


End file.
